


Hands Down

by getoffmyhead



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: AU Figure Skating, F/M, Hook-Up, M/M, Polyamory, Threesome, Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22633540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmyhead/pseuds/getoffmyhead
Summary: Sid froze, imminently mortified by the idea that his sister might accuse him of lusting after the couple on the ice. He didn’t even know what he would say to that. He had no idea how much of the birds and bees talk his parents had given her. Sid frantically tried to remember what he knew at her age. Probably way too much, thanks to locker rooms.“Sid! You like it! You like figure skating! I knew it!”Walloped by a side-hug from his sister, Sid took a breath to pull himself together. Taylor didn’t think he was checking anyone out, even if he was. Nobody could read his mind. Those unbidden thoughts would stay firmly inside his head, where they belonged, and nobody ever had to know.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Anna Kasterova/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 30
Kudos: 177
Collections: Sid/Geno/Anna Exchange: Round 2





	Hands Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iknewhim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iknewhim/gifts).

> Based on the Prompt: Geno and Anna as a figure skating couple meeting hockey player Sid at the Olympics who is just overwhelmed by their show and can't decide who he is more in love with (spoiler alert: it's both of them). Please add in some "Olympic Village is basically a giant orgy" if possible!

Sid would be the first to admit that ice dancing wasn’t his forte. Not that he disliked it--he could happily watch the figure skating pairs flow elegantly together in colorful costumes--but the rules seemed impossible to follow. What Sid would deem a perfect score actually came in the middle of the pack, and he eventually got frustrated with trying to figure out why.

His thirteen-year-old sister, on the other hand...

When Team Canada announced Sid's inclusion on the Vancouver Olympic team, Taylor squealed on the phone. It caught him off guard that she apparently felt so ecstatic for him making the team until he heard her in the background. "We're going to the Olympics, oh my god! We're going to see Tessa and Scott!"

In the weeks leading up to the games, Taylor gave Sid the scouting report on all the skaters and their signature moves. Some of it sounded familiar--axels and loops, something called a lutz, things he’d heard on television during the 2006 games--but he couldn’t match any of it to real moves on the ice to save his life.

As much as Sid got to hear about Taylor’s passion for skating from hundreds of miles away, it came as no surprise that his parents were burnt out on the subject by the Games. Still, they dutifully accompanied Taylor to the short program and pairs while Sid kept busy preparing with his team. Men’s hockey didn't start until four days into the schedule, and Team Canada spent their time working to get on-ice chemistry before they had to play.

Once hockey started, Sid got the impression that his parents hoped Taylor’s interest would swing over to focus on his push for gold. But, to their dismay, she had a big enough attention span for both.

“Tessa and Scott are wearing new outfits today, and they’re super-secret,” she gushed over the table when Sid met his family for lunch after practice. Sid caught his mother’s rolled eyes and his father’s weary sigh. They were good parents but not saints, and teenage obsession could be exhausting.

Which was why Sid volunteered to take Taylor to ice dancing instead. “I don’t have a game. You guys can go to dinner or something. We’ll be fine.”

Sid could palpably feel his parent’s relief when they agreed, and that was how he ended up sitting in the crowded stands with his little sister bouncing on the balls of her feet while she pointed at the willowy figures on the ice, warming up for the first ice dancing event of the Olympics.

“There they are, look!”

Sid’s eyes roamed over Tessa and Scott, the Canadians who might bring home gold, and felt a pang of comradery with them. Team Canada carried a similar burden in hockey. They were the odds-on favorites, meaning they could not fail.

A flash of red caught Sid’s attention to the right, pulling his gaze from the serious-looking Canadian pair to another couple. They were tall--that’s what intrigued Sid about them first, kept him from looking away. Even he knew height could be a disadvantage in figure skating. The woman was wearing a cherry-colored dress, skin-tight above the waist with a flowing skirt. The dress covered her from neck to wrist, but barely hid the firm swell of her bottom--a mockery of modesty.

The guy’s outfit seemed less revealing at first--a pairing of a white shirt and black trousers--until Sid really looked. God, his pants were more painted-on than her dress, straining around his thighs when he lifted a leg to stretch on the boards. 

While Sid watched the pair, the woman threw her head back and laughed. The man’s smile came on after, sly and thrilled at her reaction. Maybe he told a joke. Sid realized too late he was smiling with them.

“What?” Taylor asked, and Sid jerked his attention back to her.

“Nothing. Just happy to be here with my little sister.”

Taylor maintained a carefully suspicious squint for maybe a second or two, determined not to believe him, but she was ultimately too excited to hide it. “Me too! I can't believe this is really happening!”

And then she took off talking a mile a minute about routines and sequins and the perfect music. Sid sat back and listened because he really did miss her. It sometimes felt like he only got snapshots of her growing up. He couldn't believe how much of her life he'd missed out on. 

When Sid left for Shattuck, Taylor was a little girl, interested only in dinosaurs. Since then, he’d come home for her art phase, when traces of paint could be found on the walls and carpets throughout the house. Then she started school and hockey and became a social butterfly. Trips home involved sleepovers and late-night popcorn and a gaggle of young girls begging Sid to play video games with them. Sometimes, it felt like the baby who determinedly pulled herself up on the coffee table to toddle after Sid in their living room was just--gone. In the blink of an eye, she was a teenager.

Taylor kept up commentary through the first handful of dances--none of them Tessa and Scott. All of the skaters did okay, though one of the women lost her edge and went down. Sid felt sure that would cost them.

Sid perked up when the tall couple returned to the ice and took a deliberate warm-up lap together. As they glided by, Sid studied them. The woman had her hair neatly done up--a rule for compulsory dance, as he found out from Taylor. The man’s hair, though gelled, refused to be tamed entirely. Sid could see the wavy curl fighting the product. Both skaters had high cheekbones and endless legs.

“Are they related?” Sid asked.

“What? Ew, no. They’re _married_,” Taylor replied. “That’s Anna Kasterova and Evgeni Malkin.”

“I’m guessing they’re a big deal,” Sid said, judging by her chastising tone.

“Oh my god, Sid. What planet are you from that you don’t know who Anna Kasterova is?”

“The one where I don’t read Teen People,” Sid jabbed, and Taylor fought a laugh to stick her tongue out at him. “Was she a singles skater before?”

“Yeah, duh. She won gold like a hundred times.”

“A hundred, eh?”

“Yep. And then she met Evgeni. It’s so sweet. He went to all her shows all over the world and bought her flowers all the time until she fell in love with him.”

“Then, they teamed up?”

“They started skating together when they were boyfriend and girlfriend. Then they got married.”

The couple came to a stop at center ice, where the faceoff dot should be. Anna stretched her arms out in a graceful arc, and Evgeni’s hands followed hers. She craned her head back to meet his eyes. In the jumbotron above, Sid could see the curve of her mouth where it stretched, a seemingly private little smile. It felt intimate, like the cameras weren’t supposed to catch that part. The moment broke when the music began, and their routine started.

Sid’s knowledge of dance stopped at the basics, but even he knew a tango. The two of them came alive with the beat, Evgeni playing the pursuing brut chasing the seductive vixen in the red dress, a violent clash of tempers portrayed in dramatic gestures and breathtaking spins.

When Anna allowed Evgeni to catch up with her, he spun her into his chest so that she caught herself against him. He used her position to run a hand down her thigh and lift her leg, bending her over backward until her hair nearly touched the ice. When Evgeni brought her back, their mouths hovered close to meeting, parted and willing. Sid almost looked around to see what the rest of the audience thought of such a sexual routine. He couldn’t recall ever seeing something so lewd at the Olympics on television before.

The remainder of the routine saw them working entirely together, their cohesiveness growing by leaps and bounds--a relationship borne out on the ice, getting stronger. And Sid got it. He held his breath through the last united motions before Evgeni spun her and brought her back to him one last time. They froze, gazing into one another’s eyes like no one else existed while Sid’s heart pounded.

The spell broke when the music faded, and the couple split apart, beaming at the cheers from the audience. Sid noticed that they never stopped holding hands as Anna led the way off the ice to receive their scores. She only broke away to put on her skate guards and hug someone--perhaps their trainer? And then she went back to Evgeni and clung to him, bouncing slightly on her feet in anticipation.

The scores came out less than absolutely perfect, which was what Sid would have given them, but they got the highest numbers so far. Anna jumped and threw her arms around Evgeni, who spun her gracefully, beaming.

Taylor broke Sid’s focus on the ecstatic ice dancers, saying, “You’re doing it again.”

“What?” Sid asked.

“Smiling for no reason. Wait. Oh my god!”

Sid froze, imminently mortified by the idea that his sister might accuse him of lusting after the couple on the ice. He didn’t even know what he would say to that. He had no idea how much of the birds and bees talk his parents had given her. Sid frantically tried to remember what he knew at her age. Probably way too much, thanks to locker rooms.

“Sid! You like it! You like figure skating! I knew it!”

Walloped by a side-hug from his sister, Sid took a breath to pull himself together. Taylor didn’t think he was checking anyone out, even if he was. Nobody could read his mind. Those unbidden thoughts would stay firmly inside his head, where they belonged, and nobody ever had to know.

Which was great, in theory. Except Sid showered that night with his hand around his cock, imagining first Evgeni on his knees and then Anna’s leg hiked up around his hip, and--well.

Sid was a driven man. People didn’t get to his position without knowing how to get the things they wanted. Sometimes, those things weren’t good things or smart things, but if he wanted them, Sid could get them. So, the next day after practice, he asked the rink staff if they knew when and where the Team Russia figure skaters worked out on the ice. He spent his whole afternoon scolding himself for it after they told him.

The internal chastisement didn’t stop Sid from waking up an hour early--on a game day no less--to go watch the skaters practice.

Sid made sure to get to the practice late, so none of the skaters would be around to question his presence. He hovered by the Zamboni door, as unobtrusive as he could make himself, and sipped a coffee while he watched the Russian team. Anna was working on some kind of whirlwind twist with one arm high above her head. Evgeni seemed to be there just to get her started, guiding her into the move over and over again. It looked the same every time, but she didn’t seem happy with it until the end when she pumped a fist at an apparently successful attempt. Sid felt himself smiling again, watching her raise up on one toe pick to kiss Evgeni before gliding happily away for a drink of water at the bench.

As she made her way back to Evgeni, Anna’s eyes scanned across the glass and froze on Sid. She stopped propelling herself, gliding on the remaining momentum as she studied him. Sid swallowed--was she about to tell him off? It was a closed practice, but he didn’t think that mattered for athletes in other sports. Sid wouldn’t even know _how_ to scout the competition for Team Canada.

Anna took a few quick steps to close the gap between her and Evgeni, tugging at his arm. He turned toward Sid, too, and Sid figured it was probably his cue to leave. He had spent enough energy on a fantasy, effort better used preparing for his own Olympic games. He needed to get breakfast, and he would undoubtedly require a nap after the early rise. Sid had disrupted his routine more than enough. Time to get back on track.

*****

Twelve hours after crashing the figure skating practice, Sid sat in his stall in the Team Canada locker room, numbly recovering from losing to the United States.

"We knew they'd be good, boys," Niedermayer said. He was speechmaking, captaining, but Sid could barely hear him through the fog of his guilt. 

Logically, Sid knew messing up his pre-game routine by waking up an hour early didn’t cause Team Canada to fail. Not entirely. But it certainly contributed. If Sid had only been a little faster, more alert.

Sid shook himself out of those thoughts--they were pointless. He couldn’t change the past. Thankfully, the loss only hurt the team in the standings instead of eliminating them. They could still win gold. It would just be a harder road.

“Hey, Crosby,” one of the trainers yelled from the door, jolting Sid away from his brooding. There was a smile in the trainer's voice--nothing good could come of that. Sure enough, the guy strolled in with a bouquet of flowers cradled in one arm like a baby.

Sid stared, uncomprehending, as the guy held the flowers out to him. “You’re shitting me. Someone got me flowers?” he said as he took them gingerly. They looked so fragile, he worried they might break under his hand.

Players in varying states of undress crowded around to see as Sid plucked the card from the middle of the bouquet.

“What’s it say?” Drew pressed before Sid could even get his eyes on the writing.

“Give the man a fucking second, Doughnut. He never learned to read good,” Getzlaf clowned, and Sid got so distracted laughing at the jab he nearly lost the card to Bergy’s fast fingers. He yanked it back and read it through the impatient jostling of his teammates.

_We saw you at practice. The full routine is better. See you tomorrow?_

The names were signed in Cyrillics, but Sid would have to be pretty dense not to figure it out. Anna and Evgeni sent flowers to his locker room to invite him to see their event. His irrational hope didn’t just float back to the surface--it soared.

“Well?” Drew asked. “Is it your girlfriend?”

“It’s your mom, huh? Don’t lie,” Shea poked. 

“Yeah,” Sid replied, folding the card as he sat back with a silly grin. “She always looks out for me after a loss. Dries my tears. Tucks me in.”

That got the boys going enough that they lost track of asking real questions. They spent the remainder of their cooldown time laughing about Sid being so very young. They went from him being too young to drink--even though he was twenty-two now and absolutely could--to too young to drive. The longer they talked, the more Sid de-aged until the guys with young kids were offering to set him up for playdates at the swing set when the weather evened out.

“I think my wife has a binky in her purse if you need something to help you fall asleep," Niedermayer chimed in while they showered, the captain joining in the melee. 

They carried on, and Sid laughed along with them, all the while thinking about the ice dancing competition the next day. Thankfully, they didn’t have another game, and ice dancing would be on in the afternoon, so Sid didn’t have to potentially hurt the team again.

*****

Sid felt terrible arranging it so he could go to ice dancing alone. Taylor would never forgive him if she knew, but his parents were taking her to the women’s hockey game at the same time. She never needed to find out.

Sid arrived just as warmups began and went down to the glass to watch before the crowds started to fill in. He instantly saw Anna stretching by the benches and Evgeni skating laps with long strides around the ice. He passed Sid and stopped--instantly and effortlessly--to turn back. Evgeni stared at Sid for a second before his face rucked up into a shy-looking smile. He said something, but Sid couldn’t hear him through the glass. Sid just gave him a thumbs up, which made Evgeni’s faint smile brighten to rival the fluorescents above them. Evgeni returned the thumbs up before he continued on his warmup lap and stopped by Anna. They spoke, and Anna turned back to look at Sid. She waved, and he hoped there weren’t any cameras pointed at him because his face heated right up.

The routine was their third and final of the Olympics: freestyle. Sid could immediately tell the difference between the rigid standards of the original dance and the wilder freeform they displayed in this routine. Anna’s hair was down, and he recognized the music, for a start. It also seemed like Evgeni lifted Anna off her feet ten times in the first minute, catching her up in his arms as easy as a child. Sid scolded the part of him that whispered--how strong must Evgeni be to perform those lifts so effortlessly?

They spent a lap not touching but performing the steps and spins of their dance entirely in sync. Anna came out of a final turn, reached without looking, and found Evgeni’s hand there, waiting. He pulled her close to him, flush against the long lines of his body. Again, as with the tango, they seemed on the verge of kissing before they parted.

As the crescendo in the music loomed, the dance grew faster, more frenetic. Anna hooked her leg around Evgeni’s thigh and locked her hands around his neck, and he spun them so fast her hair and dress flared out. Sid leaned in, transfixed, as they performed their final dizzying moves to the frantic music, and then everything went calm. The music lulled. Anna came to rest with her shoulders back against Evgeni’s chest and her hand gracefully cupped against his cheek. Sid jumped at the sudden applause, jarringly reminded of the audience around him, and then cheered along.

Again, Evgeni and Anna took the top of the leaderboard, leaving them in the running for gold. They were sitting while waiting for their scores this time, side by side. At the revelation of the numbers, Evgeni slung an arm around Anna and pressed a smiling kiss onto her temple. It felt, again, too intimate for the cameras, a private moment in front of ten thousand people.

With the high score set by Evgeni and Anna, only Tessa and Scott were positioned to challenge them for gold, and the Canadians‘ routine came next. Sid felt like a traitor to his country for wishing them to take silver, sharply looking for flaws in their dance. There weren’t many, but he still preferred Evgeni and Anna’s number.

Tessa and Scott scored highly on the freestyle. It came down to math to determine which pair took gold. Sid held his breath while they updated the leaderboards. He felt overjoyed when Anna and Evgeni remained at the top. They won. No other pair could challenge for gold because their scores in the first two events were too low.

Sid searched the boards for Anna and Evgeni, but could not find them again until the final two dances were finished. Then, they reappeared. Anna looked collected and perfect. Evgeni looked ecstatic. Considering what Taylor said about Anna’s history winning gold, Sid supposed that made sense. It sounded like she practically grew up in ceremonies like this. Evgeni buzzed beside her, rocking on his skates while they set up the podiums, until Anna ran a hand down his arm, soothing him like a skittish horse. He turned toward her and calmed, in her sway entirely.

Once on the podium, they both seemed to barely contain their excitement. Anna wiped at her tears, waving to a few people she knew, and Evgeni bounced on his skates before settling in to receive the medal. Sid felt a strange swell of pride for these perfect strangers, watching their hands find one another again with their medals around their necks. They waved once more at the audience, Anna blowing kisses, and then the ceremony was over.

Sid floated back to his room at Olympic village to sleep and prepare for back to back games, glad he could see them win. He only wished he had thought to send them flowers in return.

*****

In the morning, Team Canada didn’t exactly have practice, but the coaches booked the ice for the players to have a skate if they wanted it. Sid took the opportunity to half-dress and screw around with a puck for an hour, chatting with teammates about lunch plans and families and nothing related to the upcoming game--just relaxing.

Sid stayed after most of his teammates were gone back to the locker room. He alternated juggling a puck on the blade of his stick and trying to get a lacrosse goal on Flower until he got a blocker thrown at him. It came so close he felt the disturbance in the air by his cheek as it sailed by. Flower started shaking the glove off for a second attack, and Sid dug his edges into the ice to make a hasty getaway, laughing as Flower swore at him.

Sid’s retreat took him down to the other side of the ice, to the Zamboni door. He was so busy running from Flower, he didn’t notice someone standing at the glass until he passed the goal line.

Anna took two steps forward and put her hand on the glass, a greeting. Sid raised a hand reflexively before he stopped himself. He was tired of only interacting from a distance. He skated to the door and pointed down. “Grab the lever.”

Anna cocked her head with a bemused smile but did what Sid asked. As soon as she popped the lever out of the concrete, Sid could push down on the lock and shove open the door.

Stepping off the ice felt like crossing a barrier into another world. So far, Sid had only experienced the figure skaters from a distance, making them seem alien and unreal. When he shut the door behind him and turned, Sid stood face to face with Anna Kasterova in yoga pants and an oversized sweater and realized he had nothing to say.

“Hi,” Sid managed.

Anna smiled and tilted her head like he said something charming and cute. “Hi.”

“I, uh--” Sid pulled his hand out of his glove and then hesitated. Gloves always smelled musty, no matter how many times they got washed. Anna looked like she perpetually smelled like sunshine and honey and wildflowers--he couldn’t stick his sweaty hockey hand out to her. He grimaced. “Sorry, I’m Sid.”

“Anna,” she said, still looking more charmed than anyone could justify.

“Is this revenge?” Sid asked. His stupid heart was racing. He hadn’t felt so nervous talking to a girl since he was thirteen and Kellie Smith kissed him on the cheek at a school dance.

“Revenge?” Anna asked, holding her smile even as it became curious.

“For, uh, barging in on your practice. Sorry, ours isn’t as interesting. I can try to do a spin for you.”

Anna’s eyes crinkled up when she laughed, nothing more than a breathy chuckle, but Sid could see why Evgeni looked so thrilled when he caused it. It felt like a victory. “Yes, I want.”

Sid made to turn back toward the ice, but she put a hand on his arm. He left the elbow and chest pads in the locker room, so he could feel the warmth of her palm against his forearm. He swallowed and returned his full attention to her.

“Just joke,” she assured. “I come because I want to ask.”

God, anything. Sid would say yes to just about anything.

“My husband, Zhenya.”

Sid’s mind stalled on that one, playing the slot machine of Russian names to match what she said with Evgeni.

“He loves Penguins hockey team so much.”

“He’s a fan?” Sid asked, surprised. Why would a foreign figure skater care about Pittsburgh hockey?

“Yes, he love you most.”

The phrasing was killing him. “Jeez, that’s so flattering. I might have a jersey or something with me. I could sign it for him. If not, just tell me where to send one, and I’ll do it when I get home.”

“That’s very nice, thank you. But I think he want to meet you more. Will you come to dinner?”

Sid’s heart sank disappointedly. “Oh.”

The curve of Anna’s confident smile faltered at the perceived rejection.

“No, it’s not--I would, but I have back to back games. I’m basically booked solid for the next day and a half.”

Anna listened and then nodded solemnly. “Okay. After Russia game is good. Me and Zhenya, we come to the game, then we go to dinner.”

Anna didn’t take no for an answer a lot, Sid guessed. Any excuse he gave other than an outright refusal would be countered.

Sid had no interest in refusing, which brought up another problem. Sid had been crushing on Anna and her husband as far away fantasies, the pristine and perfect people behind the glass. Standing there with her hair flowing down her back, blinking at him with big, blue eyes, Anna’s charm and beauty overwhelmed him. Sid wasn’t sure he could handle Evgeni as well and not make a stammering fool out of himself at dinner. He hesitated, and Anna sighed. She was getting frustrated.

“We want to go to dinner before, but we never come to Vancouver, you know? It’s a really big city,” she said with a sheepish shrug. “Maybe we need also Canadian to help us. So I think you are nice--everybody say this. Maybe you help.”

It was a doe-eyed manipulation, devastatingly designed to get Anna her way. Make a man feel like he’s the only one who can save you, and he’ll do whatever you want. Sid read right through it and still fell into the ego-stroking trap.

“I mean, I’m not _from_ Vancouver, but--I’m pretty familiar.”

“You will do it?” she asked, hitting Sid with what he would bet was a calculated expression of hesitant hope. He had to admire the dedication. Anna only stopped short of literally batting her eyelashes.

“Yeah, of course. I can take you guys out on the town.”

Anna’s smile returned in force like a reward, and she danced backward away from him--another tactic, quit while you’re ahead. “Good. We will come for Russia game. Meet outside locker rooms, yes?”

Sid nodded dumbly even though she didn’t wait for him to answer. He stared after her as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked away. Only when she turned the corner out of his sight did the spell break.

*****

Gamedays usually went fast for Sid. He knew his schedule from the ring of his alarm waking him up to his shower before bed. The structure made the time rush by.

Normally.

The thirty-six hours from making dinner plans with Anna to the final buzzer of winning the second game might have been the longest of his life. He spent half of the game against Russia searching the stands for the now-familiar figure skaters--it seemed so impossible that they would actually show up.

As Sid showered, he wondered if the result of the game might interfere with his meetup with Evgeni and Anna. It nagged at him while he dressed in a suit and fixed his hair and spent a long time debating putting on a tie. He played back the game in his mind. Surely, they couldn’t be mad about the outcome. They would have seen how Canada played, how they won clean.

Sid tore the tie off his neck for the third and final time and dropped it determinedly in his locker on his way out. He was using it to stall, and he needed to go face the music. If they were mad about the game, if they were even there, Sid would just have to explain.

It became clear Sid’s worries were misplaced as soon as he turned the corner out of the hall of locker rooms. Leaning against a wall, Anna saw him immediately and smiled, which made Evgeni turn toward him. He looked at Sid with wide-eyed wonder, like he had through the glass. Neither of them appeared even slightly upset by their countrymen’s loss.

“Hey guys,” Sid said as he approached and put out a hand for Evgeni. “Nice to meet you in person.”

“Yes, I--” Evgeni started, and then cut himself off with his hand gripped around Sid’s, not letting go. His hooded eyes stayed locked on Sid’s face, dark and attentive. It felt hard to breathe under the weight of his gaze, especially when his thumb stroked absently across Sid’s hand.

“Hello, Sid,” Anna interrupted, her mouth bowing into a sly and knowing smile. “I’m sorry, he is--” she said a Russian word and shrugged. It made Evgeni rip away from Sid with an indignant sound and protest, also in Russian.

“I'm happy to meet,” Evgeni said, turning his attention back to Sid, looking less stunned by him.

“Yeah, me too. You guys are amazing. I’m starstruck.”

Evgeni huffed, scoffing, but he also lifted his chin and puffed up a little, like a preening bird. “No, you not. Stop.”

“No, for real. That last routine was really something.”

“The freestyle?” Evgeni asked, looking even more tickled. “That so nice, thank you. It’s my favorite.”

“Me too,” Sid said, unable to suppress his admiration.

Anna looked between them with a pleased curve to her mouth and said, “We can talk about dancing over dinner. Maybe also hockey. Now, we go.”

Evgeni gave Sid a conspiratorial little smirk like they were scolded children. Sid knew he was smiling like a fool, but he was helpless to stop it. He fell into their wake when they started toward the exit, not in any less trouble than he anticipated but okay with it.

By the time they finished the cab ride to the restaurant, Evgeni had become Zhenya. “We are friend. My friend call me Zhenya,” Zhenya insisted, eager as a puppy in the back seat with Sid while Anna rode up front.

“Sure thing. Zhenya.”

Those dark eyes swung Sid’s way again when he said the name, crinkled up at the edges with fondness. The way Zhenya’s lips parted when he talked, Sid could barely concentrate on the words passing through them for the remainder of the ride.

Sid made the dinner reservation at a place he visited a few times on roadies, one he knew could tuck them away in the back for some privacy. The table the hostess showed them to had booth-style seating. When Sid slid in on one side, Zhenya unexpectedly crashed in beside him, leaving Anna alone on the other side. She seemed unbothered by Zhenya’s choice, smiling at the hostess while handing over her coat.

When the waiter arrived, Anna made Sid pick a bottle of wine for the table with another fake expression of total innocence. “I’m sure you know what is good.”

Sid fought a laugh--she clearly did not know the lowbrow drinking habits of hockey players--but he conjured his best inner Nathalie Lemieux and ordered an eight-year-old Bordeaux from the top of the list. Anna hummed at the rim of her glass when it arrived, a soft reward for a good choice.

Zhenya took a big gulp of wine like it was Kool-Aid, then made a sort of grimacing face like he didn’t like it. He kept the glass, though, occasionally sipping out of it while they looked over the menus.

“What you like?” Zhenya asked, because apparently everyone considered Sid a taste setter.

“The carbonara is great if you like pasta,” Sid answered, conjuring a memory of his last meal in Vancouver. He dragged Flower with him, who in turn invited Tanger--a pattern that ended with Sid apologetically asking the restaurant if they could put a couple tables together in the back so half a hockey team could eat together.

“Everybody like pasta,” Zhenya said, closing his menu like the matter was settled and sipping his wine. His grimaces were getting smaller.

The waiter came and went--Zhenya indeed ordered the carbonara, which gave Sid a strange thrill--and Anna leaned in to speak. “You play so good tonight, Sid.”

Sid’s neck heated up under her gaze, and he rubbed it. “Thank you, but it’s a team effort, you know?”

“Hmm, maybe so,” Anna said with a glance at Zhenya, who took the invitation and eagerly waded in.

“No, the way you keep Ovechkin, like,” he cupped his hands together in a circle--penned in? “Stop team from pass to him. So good.”

“Yeah, we were cutting off the passing lanes. It’s not exactly great TV, but--you have a good eye for hockey.”

“Zhenya play when he is a boy,” Anna volunteered, and Zhenya made a frustrated face at her like he didn’t want Sid to know.

“Not really, only when I’m little,” Zhenya said, trying to brush it off.

“How old were you when you stopped?” Sid asked.

Zhenya made a considering face. “Like, maybe twelve? Thirteen? I start to be serious about figure skating, and coach say no more hockey. I’m really short, so everybody think I can’t play hockey for real--professional. Then later, I get too big, they say maybe figure skating also never work.” Zhenya chuckled and shrugged.

“You should send whoever said that a picture of your gold medal,” Sid said, feeling a ridiculous surge of protectiveness over this guy he just met. Anna clearly approved, the way she sat back with an eyebrow quirked up and a smirk teasing at the corners of her mouth.

“Maybe,” Zhenya said, sounding distant. Sid turned and found Zhenya not so much looking at him as _studying_ him, scanning over Sid’s face with interest. Zhenya licked his lower lip absently as he watched. Sid jerked his gaze away, hiding in a sip of wine. He didn’t need to notice how dark Zhenya’s eyes looked in the dim atmosphere of the restaurant.

Thankfully, Anna changed the subject, and Sid gratefully took the out, chatting idly about the other events at the Olympics until the food came. When he got his head out of his pants long enough to look past how attractive his figure skating companions were, Sid enjoyed talking to them. They were funny, especially when they played off each other. He could do this. He wasn’t so attracted to them that he couldn’t behave like a human being.

Sid told himself that through the first bottle of wine and halfway through the second, through their entrees and on to dessert because Zhenya couldn’t resist the crème brulee. Sid maintained decorum even as Zhenya’s animated gestures got bigger, and his fidgeting brought him more into Sid’s space. He lasted until Zhenya turned the conversation back to hockey, this time with the aid of alcohol to loosen his tongue.

“You have best hands, whole game,” Zhenya practically purred. “I love to watch.”

As he said it, Zhenya ran his fingers down the back of Sid’s hand. Sid threw back the remainder of his wine before daring a look at Anna.

“You watch a lot of NHL hockey or just the Penguins?” Sid asked, heart racing from Zhenya’s leg pressed against his. Anna seemed utterly unconcerned across the table--maybe her husband was just friendly when buzzed. Sid was reading more into it than was really there.

“I watch only Penguins, always,” Zhenya said firmly, leaning into Sid like an affectionate dog. “Best team. You always fight for puck, so strong.”

Sid lost his battle not to look at Zhenya and regretted it. Dusky pink colored his cheeks like rouge, and the wine made his lips look wet and red. It called to Sid’s mind the intent look on Zhenya’s face during their on-ice tango, intense and wanton.

A look Zhenya leveled at his _wife_ on the ice. Sid jolted back into his right mind and jerked his eyes away from Zhenya’s face. Anna was _right there_ across the table--Sid had to get ahold of himself.

Which would have been doable, except Zhenya poured another glass of wine for each of them and started talking about how strong Sid’s legs were. Apparently, he couldn’t talk about something without touching it because he suddenly had a hand on Sid’s thigh under the table.

“You should win. I wish you win Stanley Cup.”

“Me too, bud,” Sid answered, sweating because Zhenya’s hand was creeping up his inseam while Anna smiled placidly across the table at them, apparently oblivious.

Thank god, Zhenya excused himself to go to the bathroom so Sid could momentarily unplaster himself from the seatback.

“You like him?” Anna asked, a loaded question.

“Of course,” Sid answered immediately because it was true. It was _too_ true--Sid liked Zhenya way too much. “He’s great.”

The answer seemed to please her. “He like you very much.”

“Good, I’m really glad.”

“Sid,” she said, smiling like she might laugh at him any moment--like he wasn’t getting something. “My husband is bisexual.”

“Uh, okay. That’s totally fine with me. I’m also--you know. It’s not a big deal.”

Anna scanned his face for clues and then, apparently finding what she wanted, leaned forward to touch his wrist across the table. “You can come with us,” Anna said, low and suggestive.

“Come with you?” By then, Sid felt pretty confident about what she meant, but it felt too surreal to believe. She was suggesting they go somewhere and--

“Sid,” Anna admonished. There, just under the sly smile, just for a blink, Sid thought he could see her uncertainty. It bolstered him to know that she didn’t have everything played out. She wasn’t sure what he would say.

“Yeah,” Sid said around the tightness in his throat. “I’ll come with you.”

The doubt in Anna’s eyes resolved, relieved at his answer. When Zhenya returned, she smiled up at him meaningfully. “Are we ready to go?”

Somehow, between the table and the cab, Anna clearly got the message to Zhenya that Sid had agreed to join them because he practically crawled into Sid’s lap in the back seat. Anna got in the passenger seat and said the name of a hotel to the cab driver.

“Don’t know your way around the city, eh?” Sid teased her, distracting himself from Zhenya’s hand, making its bold return to his inner thigh.

Anna turned back and shrugged remorselessly. Her eyes lingered on Zhenya’s wandering hand, and she smiled, a clear _worth it_ in her gaze. Then she turned her attention to the driver, chatting aimlessly with him while Zhenya nuzzled in close to Sid.

“Easy,” Sid whispered, unable to contain the affection in his tone. It was hard to resist the open hunger in Zhenya’s eyes when they lingered on Sid’s mouth. “We--we’re close.”

“Close,” Zhenya agreed, hand inching further up. He could move his fingers and brush Sid’s dick, which was definitely interested in that idea. Sid vaguely tuned into Anna talking about the weather, engaging the cab driver. He wouldn’t see if Sid leaned in to kiss Zhenya, just briefly. But then Sid would have to pull away, and he wasn’t sure he had that kind of strength.

Sid fought himself about it until they pulled up to the hotel. The turn off the road brought Zhenya’s hand in contact with Sid’s dick, just a brush before it pulled away, and another hole tore through Sid’s thin patience. He followed Zhenya out of the cab, feeling drugged by his touch and wanting more.

Thankfully, the couple already had a room because Sid wasn’t sure how much longer he and Zhenya would have lasted without getting each other’s clothes off. They crashed through the door as soon as Anna got it unlocked, and Sid felt a little bad at how rough he was, gripping Zhenya’s chin to hold him still and shove their mouths together. Anna stepped past them, fingers trailing across Zhenya’s shoulders as she went.

“God, you’re a tease,” Sid said into Zhenya’s mouth. “You were killing me back there.”

"Not kill," Zhenya said, sounding very distracted by his desire to get his tongue in Sid's mouth. He succeeded, and for a minute, they didn't talk at all. 

Sid ripped back. He was already breathing kind of hard. "Looking at me like that all dinner and in the cab--your hand." Sid put his hand down between Zhenya's legs, imitating Zhenya's touch from the back seat, so high up on his thigh it was practically in his crotch. 

In retaliation, Zhenya cupped a hand around Sid’s cock, trapped still by his pants. Zhenya pulled back enough to bite his lip in a teasing smile while he almost lovingly stroked the bulge uncomfortably straining against Sid’s zipper. “Like?”

Sid nodded urgently. He wanted to get his dick out of his pants before it started to really ache from constriction. He tried to reach for his belt, but Zhenya stopped stroking and laid a hand over his.

“Shh, I do.”

Sid started to protest that he could unbutton his own pants, but Zhenya dropped to his knees, and Sid’s throat dried up. Eye-level with Sid’s crotch, Zhenya reached for his belt and got it open, then popped the button and dragged the zipper down carefully. He hooked both hands into the waistband and pulled until Sid’s cock sprang free.

“Oh, _yes_,” Zhenya groaned, one of the more flattering reactions Sid ever experienced upon sight of his junk. Zhenya seemingly forgot his mission to get Sid out of his pants and left them stretched around Sid’s thighs to lean forward and press his nose into Sid’s balls. Sid put his head back against the wall and tried to calm his stuttered breathing while Zhenya nuzzled and sucked at his sack, bold as you like.

Everything was going so fast. Sid only met the guy buried face-first in his crotch a few hours ago. It all felt surreal, like he was dreaming back in his bed in Olympic village, fantasizing about the two figure skaters again. Sid sunk his fingers into Zhenya’s thick hair to ground himself, assure himself of the reality.

Zhenya’s exploration only got as far as trailing his lips up the shaft of Sid’s cock before Anna cleared her throat. When Sid turned, he was glad his heart was in good condition or the sight of her standing there in nothing but a tiny pair of panties might have killed him. She cocked her head, and her hair cascaded down over her shoulder, covering one pert breast. “There is a bed, hmm? Maybe we move.”

Zhenya put his plush lips over the head of Sid’s cock, stubbornly continuing his work. Sid made a mistake glancing down at him, too. He found Zhenya gazing back, those dark eyes questioning him, asking if they should obey Anna or if Sid wanted Zhenya to continue. Sid wanted _everything_, all of it at once. He wanted to go with Anna. He wanted to let Zhenya keep mouthing wetly at the head of his cock like a lollipop. How could he choose?

Anna strolled up and cupped a hand around Sid’s cheek to turn his attention back to her. “Come.”

That decided it. Zhenya pulled off Sid’s cock with a lingering kiss to the very tip, like a longing goodbye. “Yes, we move. Okay?”

Anna took the assurance without questioning and turned to stroll away. Sid stayed braced against the wall while Zhenya pushed on his thighs to lever himself up. Sid’s pants were still half-way down, and he took a beat to think about his options--pull them up or step out of them? He would feel weird in a button-down shirt and no pants, but his dick would fight him if he tried to pull them up. Sid watched Zhenya’s straight shoulders retreating into the room and made up his mind not to take any steps backward. He scrambled to get his shirt off and stepped out of his shoes and pants, following Zhenya.

Sid padded through the entrance into the expansive main room in time to catch Zhenya crawling over his wife on the bed to kiss her. It stalled him for a moment, how comfortably their mouths came together. He could see the clear communication in the easy tilt of their heads, the way Anna lingered, chasing Zhenya’s lips when he pulled back. Zhenya said something in Russian, one word with a lilt at the end like a question. Anna nodded, then turned to Sid.

“You stay there and look?” she asked, mouth pulling again into a gently mocking smile. She shifted to lean on one elbow and reached out with her other hand. “Come here.”

Anna pushed Zhenya to the side to sit on the edge of the bed and beckon Sid between her knees. She craned her head back and pulled him down. He could feel the way her breath shook when his mouth got close to hers--she wasn’t half as confident as she pretended, and again, it made him easy. He went slow with her, gentle--nothing like Zhenya. He gave Anna plenty of time to pull away if she wanted, but she didn’t. She parted her lips with a sigh and took his tongue into her mouth when he pressed and then locked her hands around his neck to keep him there.

Sid spared a glance up at Zhenya when his kisses with Anna steered from simple exploration into something decidedly more amorous. He found Zhenya playing with the bulge in his tight pants--that couldn’t be comfortable. He leaned back out of Anna’s grasp with hands around her forearms. “Kind of overdressed there, bud.”

Zhenya reveled in the teasing and scooted up the bed to push his shoulders back into the pillows. He made no move to get his clothes off, just continued playing with himself in his pants.

“Is he shy?” Sid asked in a stage whisper to Anna, because it really didn’t seem that way.

“Maybe he want you to take it off,” Anna said slyly, precisely the answer Sid wanted.

Zhenya ran his tongue across his bottom lip while he watched Sid crawl onto the bed toward him. “You help?”

“Oh, I’ll help you, alright,” Sid said, reaching for Zhenya’s jeans. His legs were so long, it felt like it took Sid years to pull them down and off. He tossed them away and then straddled Zhenya’s thighs to pluck at his shirt. Zhenya sat up to help him get it off, then pulled Sid down with him when he laid back. Sid could feel Zhenya’s dick bumping hotly against his thigh while they kissed. He definitely felt ready to go, and Sid was down for anything.

“So, how do you guys normally do this?” Sid asked, pulling away from Zhenya’s mouth. “How do you like it?”

Zhenya went still under Sid and cut an uncertain glance at Anna, who also hesitated. Sid sat back, worried he might have said something wrong.

“Normally, we don’t have other guy,” Anna said plainly, not sugar-coating the matter.

“Oh,” Sid said, unable to stop the surprised exclamation. Confident as they were in getting him here, he would have thought they were pros. “You’ve never...”

Zhenya shook his head with a painfully open expression, like he thought--what? Sid might run out of the room?

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Sid assured, soothing a hand down Zhenya’s chest. “You’ve never...with a guy at all, or never both of you?”

Zhenya again darted a look at Anna. Sid could pretty much figure out that meant he had done neither.

“Hey, don’t worry. Same for me. With a guy and a girl at the same time, I mean. It’s a first time for everyone, okay?”

“Not for me,” Anna said with a coy but sheepish shrug of one slight shoulder. “I think you fuck Zhenya.”

Sid would have brushed her idea off as too much, except Zhenya’s eyes locked onto his, full of hope. “That sound good?” Sid asked. His palm rested against Zhenya’s pec, his thumb lightly circling his nipple. “You think you might like it?”

“I like,” Zhenya said eagerly.

“He like _so_ much,” Anna purred, plastering herself up against Sid’s back to kiss his ear. She trailed a hand down to his ass and squeezed. “I do it like this all the time.”

Sid jolted with understanding and then burned as he envisioned Anna with a strap-on, pounding Zhenya into the mattress. Christ. Sid cleared his throat. Well, that made everything different, knowing Zhenya wouldn’t really be doing anything out of the norm for him. “Okay, well. Want to see how it is with a real dick?”

Zhenya nodded enthusiastically, and that pretty much sealed the deal.

“Yeah,” Sid said, more to himself than anyone. “Let’s do this. You guys have lube?”

They did, and in short order, Sid had Zhenya spread out on his back with his knees wide open and two fingers working inside him. Anna started out expertly scrutinizing Sid’s technique, perhaps assuring herself that he would perform the job satisfactorily, before moving on to make out with Zhenya and play with his dick.

When they'd been at it a while, Sid sat back to watch Anna’s small hand wrapped around the girth of Zhenya’s cock, pumping it slowly. Whenever Sid angled his fingers just right, he could see Zhenya’s dick jump against Anna’s palm, pulsing closer to the edge. They could bring him off like this, Sid and Anna working together to milk her husband. Sid couldn’t lie to himself and say it wasn’t tempting.

Zhenya suddenly yanked back from Anna’s mouth and said something quickly in Russian. Sid only recognized the word, “No.” Anna took her hand off Zhenya’s dick and reached to touch Sid’s wrist to stop him fingering Zhenya anymore.

“Everything okay?” Sid asked.

“Of course,” Anna answered. “Zhenya is ready for you--in one minute.”

Translation: Zhenya let himself get carried away and now teetered on the edge of orgasm. Sid sat back, feeling smug at the perfectly toned body laid out before him, sheened with sweat and apparently seconds away from blowing his load. Zhenya took some big, steadying breaths, eyes on the ceiling--thinking of unsexy things, no doubt.

Well, while he was preoccupied, Sid nudged Anna over and set to work pulling her panties off, the final scrap of clothing on any of their bodies. Sid laid her back against the pillows and kissed down her stomach.

“Not help,” Zhenya groaned, flopping an arm over his eyes, but he was smiling. Sid ignored the admonishment and continued his journey until he got his mouth on Anna. When he circled his tongue around her clit, her back arched off the bed, and she laughed breathlessly. She squirmed down onto his tongue to get a firmer pressure, and he happily obeyed, locking his hands around her hips to keep her close.

Sid got a good idea of what Anna liked and was pulling out a steady stream of soft moans by the time Zhenya started shifting around. Sid glanced over and found Zhenya watching them, eyes like hot coals. When he’d seen his fill, Zhenya got up on his knees and placed a hand on Sid’s shoulder.

“Move.”

Sid indulged in another couple of licks before he drew back, unsurprised when Zhenya replaced him, ass up in the air while he buried his face in Anna’s crotch. Sid cupped his hand around one of Zhenya’s cheeks and dipped his fingers in to brush Zhenya’s sopping wet hole. Zhenya moaned like Sid licked his cock.

“I think he is ready,” Anna said, wryly laughing at Zhenya even as he played with her clit and made her gasp.

Sid agreed. He moved to kneel between Zhenya’s calves and ran a hand down Zhenya’s spine. If he kept listening to Anna moan and thinking about what they were doing, he would be the one needing breathing exercises to calm down. Sid tore open a condom and rolled it on, then knee-walked forward.

Any worry Sid might have harbored about Zhenya’s experience evaporated when he pushed inside. Zhenya not only took it but moved his hips back, trying to get Sid in faster. Zhenya gripped the sheets hard, and his shoulders heaved with his breaths, his mouth open and wet against Anna’s cunt while Sid slid all the way home. His hips pressed against Zhenya’s ass, and he pushed in just a little more, grinding into Zhenya’s tight heat.

“Fuck,” Sid sighed, unable to think of any words that weren’t dirty, barely able to think at all. He took two big handfuls of Zhenya’s ass and willed himself back, only enough so he could thrust in again. Sex was always good, but this--Sid looked up and found Anna’s eyes hungrily watching his cock sink into her husband--this was absolutely surreal. He forced himself out further this time, and when he pushed back in, Zhenya jerked and made a shocked sound. Bingo. Sid did it again, faster this time, and Zhenya wailed.

“Baby,” Anna reminded Zhenya when Sid got a rhythm going. She slid her hands into his hair and tugged, and Zhenya mashed his face back into her pussy. She tossed her head back with a sigh and a smile, hips moving with his haphazard licking.

Sid focused on keeping a smooth and steady motion with his hips, working his core to nail Zhenya in ways that kept him moaning against Anna’s clit. The effort of giving it to him hard and slow brought a pleasant burn to Sid’s abs and ass, working the muscles as much as a yoga session with the trainers back home.

“You can go fast,” Anna encouraged after they’d been at it a while. “Hard. I do it a lot. He likes it.”

Sid had no doubt about that, but Zhenya barely seemed focused on getting Anna off even at a slower pace. He intermittently stopped licking at her, just resting his cheek against her thigh and moaning until she pulled his hair to get him back on track. If Sid went harder, he thought whatever focus Zhenya had left would disappear.

After Anna arched her back and came with a choked moan, though, all bets were off. Sid held the condom and pulled out, then pushed Zhenya over onto his back and shoved his legs far apart to push back inside. Sid crushed their mouths together and finally let loose, working his hips in sharp snaps. He was nailing the angle if he could tell from Zhenya’s increasingly desperate moans.

Zhenya dug his fingernails into Sid’s shoulders like he was hanging on for dear life. His cock was trapped between them, steadily rubbing against Sid’s stomach, and apparently, that was enough for him. He got really loud in Russian and then locked up when he came, pulsing around Sid, whose thighs trembled at the added sensation. Sid made it a couple more thrusts after that before he buried his face into Zhenya’s neck and found his release inside him.

Sid rested his forehead against Zhenya’s shoulder, unable to move until Anna touched his back. Then he forced his body up, eased himself out of Zhenya, and fumbled over to kiss her. He couldn’t think of any words for the gratitude he felt for her organizing this whole thing. She moved her mouth against his gently, near-lovingly, clearly feeling overwhelmed with the moment as much as Sid. She kept her fingers in Zhenya’s hair as they kissed, petting him where he slumped against her stomach.

“You did so good, baby,” Anna cooed when Sid pulled back to reluctantly go dispose of the condom. He could hear Zhenya’s mumbled reply while he walked toward the bathroom, but Sid had no idea what he said. Whatever language Zhenya used, he sounded content. That was all that mattered to Sid.

Once in the bathroom, Sid took the opportunity for a quick shower. If Shea was in the room when he got back to Olympic village, he didn’t want to be rolling up smelling like sex. 

Sid was shocked when, only halfway through shampooing, Zhenya stumbled in. Sid figured he would be out of commission for a while, the way he slumped on the bed like he’d been shot with a tranquilizer dart. Zhenya spied him through the glass door and invaded, sleepily finding Sid’s mouth under the spray for a quick kiss while he reached around him for the soap.

Anna appeared just as they finished cleaning off and swapped spaces with them for her own shower. Sid’s assumption that he would be leaving faded when, after they dried off, Zhenya took his hand and led him back to the bed. “Round two?” Sid joked, because no way was he up for it just yet.

Zhenya snorted, apparently very much in the same boat. He nudged on Sid until he got him where he wanted him, lying down on his back so Zhenya could stretch out against the length of his body and put his head on Sid’s shoulder. Somehow, Zhenya conjured the TV remote and flipped it on, finding replays of the Finland game against the Czechs.

“No surprise there,” Sid said, seeing Finland won in a shutout.

“Yes, Finland is very good. Selanne is like--”

“Immortal?” Sid asked dryly, because the guy had to slow down sometime.

They talked about hockey like little boys having a sleepover until Anna returned and climbed into bed with them on Sid’s other side. She leaned up and kissed Sid absently, a familiar-feeling gesture for someone so new to him.

Since they didn’t seem eager to kick him out, Sid let himself laze, reveling in tender kisses and occasional hockey comments as he grew sleepier. He had his eyes closed when he vaguely felt Zhenya move to pull up the covers. He and Anna spoke in soft Russian, nothing distinct enough to pull Sid back to the surface. Zhenya nestled up against his side again and dropped a kiss on his shoulder, the final straw that put him under completely.

*****

Sid woke to movement and the crinkle of a condom packet and thought--were they screwing right next to him? Hot. He opened his eyes to watch and instead met Anna’s questioning eyes. She was propped up on her elbow beside him with a condom between two fingers. She dropped it to put her hand down beneath the covers to touch Sid’s cock. He could tell before she did it was good to go. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Zhenya still passed out.

“Should we wake him up?”

Anna shook her head, eyes darting to Zhenya. She put her finger over her lips, fighting giggles as she did, and picked up the condom to thrust it at Sid. Maybe it would be better, more inclusive, to get Zhenya involved, but--well, Sid was only human. He took the condom from her and rolled it on, then sat back and let her climb aboard.

Between the soft moans and the motion of Anna’s hips rocking the bed, they woke Zhenya up. He cracked his eyes open and raised his head, wiping a mess of shaggy hair off his forehead. Seeing them, he slowly grinned and said something in Russian, which Anna responded to shortly, busy chasing her own pleasure. At least he didn’t seem annoyed at them for getting a head start.

“Morning,” Zhenya said and leaned over to kiss Sid, just a peck, contrastingly innocent compared to Anna’s wake up call. Then Zhenya moved to get up. Sid jerked his hand away from Anna’s hip to snatch his wrist, a possessive instinct to keep them both in bed with him. “Bathroom,” Zhenya said, laughing at Sid with his eyes. “It’s okay. I come back.”

Zhenya no sooner had his feet on the floor than Anna smacked Sid in the chest--not too hard, but it stung. He snapped his attention back on her and put his hand back where she wanted it, both gripping her hips to balance and encourage her movement. She pressed both of her palms onto his chest and said something in Russian. Sid might almost think she forgot who was under her, but her eyes were open. Her hair spread out like a lion’s mane, and her eyes were so blue they hurt to look at, but he couldn’t stop. Anna didn’t look like she belonged to anyone, let alone Zhenya. She looked wild.

Zhenya returned and unhurriedly moved around, stacking pillows against the headboard without any urgency. Sid kept glancing at him to see what he was doing, but he was sure to keep his hands and hips at work this time. Zhenya finished his soft pile and crawled onto the bed, then flipped around to sit with his back against the pillows with a content sigh.

“Not playing?” Sid asked, mind still preoccupied with Anna’s relentless thighs driving the pace--it was like she never got tired.

Zhenya replied in Russian and reached down to cup his dick. It was rapidly filling as he watched Anna’s tits bounce.

“You like to watch, eh?” Sid asked, grinning over at him.

“Sometime,” Zhenya said, stroking himself. He didn’t look like he was trying to get off.

Again tired of Sid splitting his attention, Anna reached down and dragged his hand around to put the pad of his thumb on her clit. His stomach did a flop as she rutted against it, moaning and panting.

“I don’t know if I can get you off unless you stop,” Sid tried to warn her. He was getting so close. “Come on, just. Let me eat you out for a while.”

She shook her head sharply and smacked his chest again. “Be still.”

Zhenya chuckled and made Sid think he was usually the one being scolded. Zhenya reached with his free hand and circled a finger around Sid’s nipple.

“Zhenya,” Sid gasped, suddenly at the point of no return. Anna’s mouth curved victoriously, and she redoubled her efforts, riding his cock like she could see the finish line. Zhenya rubbed Sid's nipple in soft strokes that sent torturous shocks through him, a sharp counterpoint to Anna’s thrusts, and then it was all over. Sid’s back arched off the bed when the wave crashed over him, and he came.

Sid sagged back into the mattress, dazed, while Anna climbed carefully off him with a pat to his chest like he was a good pony. Only then did Sid understand Zhenya’s behavior, his unwillingness to participate, when Anna swung a leg over Zhenya and took him inside bare. Apparently, she needed more. Sid gladly took over the role of lying there watching. He felt so wrung out, he could do little else.

Zhenya and Anna moved together in bed like they did on the ice--cohesive, as one. Anna rode him just as hard as Sid, driving him inside her while she rubbed her clit with two fingers. She said things that sounded like swear words, panting and moaning. At some unspoken cue, Zhenya grabbed her hips and lifted her off to throw her to the mattress, shoulder to shoulder with Sid. He nearly scooted back to give them room, but Zhenya pulled one of her legs up on his shoulder and dragged the other one out, so her thigh flopped over Sid’s.

“Give,” Zhenya ordered, pawing for one of Sid’s hands to pull it down and rub at Anna’s clit. Only then did Zhenya line up and push himself back inside her.

It felt like being pulled into one of their on-ice dance routines. Zhenya flexed his hips just right to make Anna throw her head back and grip Sid’s arm while he circled his fingers around her clit and kissed up her shoulder. In some ways, Sid felt like he was just trying to hold on and keep up, but in others--he felt a part of them, unified.

Anna came with her nails biting into Sid’s arm. Zhenya said something relieved-sounding in Russian, thrust in hard a couple more times, and went still.

Zhenya slid off to the side and collapsed on his back, panting. “I'm dead. Why you wake up?”

“Don’t complain,” Anna said, no sympathy, as she clambered out of bed to go clean up. Sid knew he should go, too, dispose of the condom. He just needed a minute to recover. Zhenya flopped his head over to look at him and grinned.

"Trouble.”

“Don’t look at me. It was your wife’s idea.”

Zhenya shrugged and wiped the sweat off his brow. “She trouble, too. Both of you.”

Laughter bubbled up in Sid’s chest, relaxing him further. He sunk into the mattress, grinning away.

Anna returned in record time with dry hair, so she must have just rinsed off. When she crawled back under the covers, Sid suddenly found himself with company in not wanting to get out of bed. Anna curled up against his side, and Zhenya spooned up behind her so he could also touch Sid, trailing his fingers along whatever skin he blindly found.

“I have to get up,” Sid said, hoping they could hear his reluctance in his tone.

“No, stay,” Anna said as Zhenya clutched at Sid’s hip with the same message. “There is trash can there, by table.”

“That’s so gross,” Sid laughed, but--she really did get her way a lot. He reached down to ease the condom off and flopped over to pitch it in the trash can. Zhenya pulled him back in, and Sid dropped a kiss on Anna’s forehead. “There, happy?”

“Hmm, yes.” She had her eyes closed, but she was smiling.

Sid knew he had to get up eventually. He had skate, preparation for the upcoming games, lunch with teammates--nothing that seemed remotely as important as pushing his fingers between Zhenya’s on Anna's hip.

Thankfully, even after they recovered, Anna gave Sid a good excuse not to get ready yet when she craned over to grab the room service menu off the bedside table. Zhenya chuckled softly and petted Sid’s hair.

“Anya eat always--have candy in dressing room, even.”

Anna glared back at Zhenya, but Sid could relate. He felt like hockey kept him perpetually hungry, and he imagined figure skating would be the same. Sid allied with her on the breakfast front, and they glanced over the menu together.

They managed to make a decision on breakfast, which of course Anna made Sid call down for, and then resumed their lazy pile on the bed to wait. Zhenya turned the TV on again while Anna played some cartoonish-looking game on her phone. It felt familiar, domestic. Sid felt like he could easily drop off to sleep again.

When room service arrived, Anna pulled on a robe to answer the door, but she let it fall open again as soon as they were alone. Sid had no complaints, of course, but he wondered if she was always a little bit of an exhibitionist. He kept with the theme and pulled on only boxers to make his way to the small table where she put the food. The smell of it made him realize he was absolutely starving.

Zhenya bucked the trend and got dressed head to toe--sweatshirt, lounge pants, and socks. Sid fought a smile and lost, but Zhenya just wrinkled his nose up at him. “What? Is cold.”

“It’s not that cold.”

“Look outside,” Zhenya protested, gesturing at the rain-beaded window. “It’s so cold.”

“Zhenya feels cold always,” Anna laughed. “Unless we are in Miami.”

“You guys go to Miami a lot?” Sid asked, interest piqued. 

Anna nodded. “We have a house there.”

“Do you live there?” Sid asked while kicking himself, but he _had_ to. He couldn’t stop himself from asking because there was a hockey team in Miami--the Panthers. If they lived there--

“No,” Anna said. “Only vacation.”

Sid tried not to show his disappointment. “Oh, right. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“Wish we live there,” Zhenya said, still mournfully watching the rain. “Glad at least we don’t live here.”

Sid laughed. “Oh, Vancouver’s not so bad, eh? Sure it’s a little rainy, but there’s fun stuff to meet, people to do.”

Zhenya snorted an infectious sort of laugh, like Sid absolutely delighted him. “Sure, people to do,” he chuckled, spearing a piece of melon on his plate.

After a long and lazy breakfast, none of them made much effort toward getting ready for the day, which made sense for Anna and Zhenya, but Sid knew his time would come. Sure enough, his phone began to buzz with group texts around nine and did not stop when he ignored it.

“What’s this?” Zhenya asked, nodding at the phone. They were back in bed watching clips from downhill slaloms while Anna brushed her hair, visible through the bathroom door.

Sid glanced at the phone like he didn’t already know. “Uh, just--stuff. Team stuff. We have ice in a couple hours, and I didn’t come back last night, so I’m sure they’re freaking out that I’m not answering. I’ll text them on my way out.”

Anna’s expression fell as she approached the bed and realized what Sid was saying. “You leave?”

“Well, yeah. I’m going to have to skate. Some of us don’t have our medals yet,” Sid teased.

“You miss, just one time,” Zhenya said confidently.

“Ah, no can do, bud. Got a game tomorrow. I have to start prepping for it now.”

Zhenya pouted and flopped over to lock his arms around Sid’s waist. “No, you have to stay. Text team, say trapped.”

Oh man, that was tempting. “I had a lot of fun, but it can’t last forever, you know? Eventually, we’d run out of condoms.”

Sid pushed his fingers through Zhenya’s hair a couple of times while he looked at Anna. She did not look playfully contentious. She looked--something else. Hurt?

“Anna--”

“Okay, you have to go. Zhenya, get off.” She swatted at his arm and then went away to flop down on the couch across the room by the windows. Sid watched her go, unsure of what he said to upset her.

Zhenya extracted himself and sat up with his hair a mess and his bottom lip sticking out. “Fine. You go skate. Hockey routine, yes? Like you say in interviews.”

Sid felt his mood buoy up to the surface again. “Yeah, it’s kind of a hockey routine. It’s important.”

“Okay, is important. Go,” Zhenya said, pushing at Sid to get him up and out of bed.

With Zhenya’s backing, Sid showered quickly and dressed in the same clothes he arrived in. When he emerged, he found Zhenya by Anna’s side on the couch, arm draped around her while he spoke in soft tones. She still looked upset.

“Are you guys okay?”

Zhenya jerked his head up and then jumped to his feet. “Yes, it’s okay. Just, Anya don’t want you to go.”

Anna hissed something at Zhenya and pulled her robe tight before leveling a baleful frown at Sid.

“It’s not really that I want to, you know? I have to. It’s important.”

“Yes, I know,” she snipped coolly. “It’s important. So go.”

Anna stayed on the couch, apparently resigned to be angry with Sid, but Zhenya walked him to the door. “Sid--I don’t know what is word.” Zhenya laughed self-consciously and scratched at his arm. “Thank you for come.”

“God, thank _you_. I had an amazing time. You guys are just--amazing,” he finished lamely. He started and then resisted the urge to ask if he might see them again. Zhenya would probably say something nice, like _maybe in four years_, and Sid would feel let down. Instead, he reiterated, “I had a really great time.”

“Me too, and Anya. She mad right now, but not for real.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Sid said, which was not exactly what he meant. It was a relief to hear that she didn’t regret their time together, only that she didn’t want it to end. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“I know. It’s okay,” Zhenya said, and he pulled Sid into a chaste kiss. “Go win gold medal, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Then you will win, I know. You are best.”

Zhenya looked achingly sincere, like he had the utmost confidence in Sid. Sid let himself be lured in for one last lingering kiss and then tore himself away from Zhenya. He had to force himself to barrel out the door before he could do something silly like staying in the hotel for the rest of the day.

*****

Sid spent the next full day feeling disjointed. He made it to skate on time, put on his pads and did his job on the ice, but his head never really joined the team. His eyes kept wandering to the Zamboni doors, where he knew Anna would not be.

They were on the home stretch--probably the only reason anybody noticed Sid’s behavior. He didn’t think he was doing anything overly concerning. He was just a little quiet. But the day before their semifinal game, the difference between going to the gold medal round or going home with nothing, being a little quiet was enough for Sid to earn a visit from Flower.

“What’s wrong with you?” Flower asked when he got Sid cornered by the equipment, long after they left the ice and stretched and cooled down. It was lunchtime, and Sid wasn’t prepared for a serious chat.

“What do you mean, what’s wrong with me?” Sid asked, searching through the rolls of tape for the right one. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Your face. It’s bumming me out.”

Sid found the tape and reached for his stick. “Can't help you with that, bud. Have you tried closing your eyes?”

“I would still hear you sighing. So, what is it? Did you fight with your parents?”

“What? No.” Though Sid also hadn’t texted them his plans for the day. He thought he probably better do that, so they knew what to expect from him, how to plan their schedule around his.

“Well, something is wrong.”

“Nothing's wrong, I swear. I’m just, you know. Getting in the zone.”

Flower rolled his eyes to the heavens with a little muttered prayer in French. “If you are getting sick--”

“I’m not sick, Flower. I promise. I’m good.” It wasn’t anything near that serious. He just felt a little--empty.

“Just in case, we will get soup for lunch. I will tell the boys.”

Sid nearly called after Flower to protest, but let it go. He ate a big breakfast. Soup might not be a bad idea if it made his teammates feel better. Sid started the tape on his practice stick for the morning and methodically laid it down in even strips on the blade. He wasn’t acting that weird, he told himself. Flower was just nervous about the upcoming medal games and reading too much into everything.

Only, it kept happening.

Over dinner, Sid’s mother reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You’re going to do so great in these games, honey.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“My poor baby. You just look sick with worry.”

“No, I’m really not," Sid insisted. "I’m okay. I think we have a good chance.”

She smiled like she appreciated the reassuring lie--only it wasn’t. Sid wasn’t lying. He really thought Team Canada had a shot at the gold, and he had every intention of trying his hardest to make that happen. Sid wasn’t feeling nervous about the games at all, just slightly off-balance. It almost felt like he was lost, a feeling that doubled when he returned to Olympic village instead of a posh hotel room downtown.

When Sid arrived back in his room, Shea took one look at him and got bug-eyed. “What’s wrong?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me that?” Sid groaned, stripping off his jacket and toeing out of his shoes. He flopped face-first down on the bed.

“You look like someone kicked your puppy, man. Did you get dumped or something?”

“I’m fine,” Sid groaned. He was getting tired of saying it.

“Okay,” Shea said very doubtfully. “If you say so.”

Sid shoved his face in the pillow and tried to breathe through the stuffing. It made him feel lightheaded after a while, and he pulled back. The flood of oxygen to his system felt like a relief and also somehow made it clear to him--he was still missing something. Maybe everybody was right. Perhaps he did feel a little down about Zhenya and Anna.

That wouldn’t make him play poorly, though. Sid wouldn’t let it. He had played through a lot in his life: injuries, deaths in the family, national tragedies. He would not let this--he didn’t even know what to call it--small heartbreak derail his gold medal dreams.

Sid woke up in the morning before Shea and kicked out of bed, fully determined to perform at his very best at the game that night. He adhered to his routines perfectly, not a toe out of line. He skated and stretched and ate and taped _just_ right.

And it worked. They won. They were going to the gold medal game.

*****

Even without having won it himself, Sid saw pictures and videos every year of the winner’s locker room after the Stanley Cup. He could understand the release of tension--eight months of stress culminating in a celebration of epic proportions. Those guys just went wild. Comparatively, Sid expected the gold medal to be--not _less_, exactly, but quieter. The Olympics seemed more dignified.

Sid thought that right up until he knocked the puck into the net in overtime and found himself under a pile of twenty-something bodies, all yelling and cheering because they _won_. After the Americans tied it up with seconds to go in the game, after the stomach-turning realization that they _could lose_, Team Canada pulled the win out. 

_Sid_ pulled the win out. 

Of course, they all did their part, and Sid wasn't going to get a big head about it, but it felt like a relief. He spared a tiny, fleeting thought to teasing Flower about his performance, but it really didn't matter. Not when they were buried in red and white, so full of collective joy nothing else could possibly compete. 

"Good fucking job, kid," Niedermayer said after they got done shaking Team USA's hands. He ruffled Sid's hair, then smoothed it down again with a grin. "Gotta look good for the pictures, eh?"

Sid's face started to get sore from smiling, and he still couldn't stop. Not when they were lining up for the medal celebration, and the Canadian crowd cheered so loudly for them they shook the building. Sid's parents were up there in that madness, his sister. 

He briefly wondered if, maybe, Zhenya and Anna might be up there, too. Or maybe they were watching on TV. It was the first thing to make his smile dip, just for a moment. It came back with a vengeance when he ducked his head to receive his medal. 

Sid stayed on the ice for interviews after most of his teammates left and walked down the tunnel alone. He could hear the music before he got half-way, some energetic hip hop song. Sid sped up his steps with a grin and burst through the locker room door into a spray of champagne. Turned out, the difference between the gold medal celebration and the Stanley Cup came down to one thing--the presence of cameras. The Olympics didn’t allow them in the locker room for the party.

Soaked in champagne with a gold medal around his neck, Sid felt on top of the world. For the first time in three days, he could totally ignore the part of him that felt like something was missing.

Sid kept reminding himself that, despite his dumb feelings on the matter, he hadn't actually lost anything when he left Anna and Zhenya. He got to touch two incredibly hot figure skaters for a night. That was, as he had been repeatedly informed by his more experienced teammates, the whole point of the Olympics. Not to win, not to compete, to _screw_.

Still.

The team carried their joviality from the locker room to the closing ceremony. Sid let himself get swept along in the current of excited teammates, buzzy from champagne and victory. At the stadium, their stream merged with other athletes from all the nations in attendance to parade one last time at the Olympics before settling in to roost in their place of honor in the front rows. Sid's medal felt heavy against his chest, a weighty reminder that made him smile at random throughout. Caught up in the showmanship of the event--lights and music and fireworks--Sid only scanned over the crowd of athletes, searching for familiar faces in Team Russia gear, once. 

Sid drank more than he would typically dare at the after-party and reignited his buzz from the locker room. By the time he met his parents, he had lost count of the beers and shots pressed into his hands. His parents patiently put up with his silliness, though--who could begrudge him for getting tipsy after such a monumental victory? Taylor laughed at him while he clowned with her on the way out of the building, and his father offered to help Sid pack up that night.

“You can stay with us, and we can all go to the airport together,” his father said, probably worried Sid might miss his alarm if he tried rising alone.

In the morning, peeling his eyelids open, Sid thought he was more a hindrance to the packing process than a help, but his father didn’t complain. Sid had his suitcase by the door--he could see it from his spot on the couch. He gingerly got himself up and took stock. He certainly felt tired, dehydrated, a little headachy, but he seemed to have mostly survived.

And there it was again, that niggling feeling of general _wrongness_. Sid's mind kept circling back to the same problem--why didn’t he get either of their numbers?

Because they probably wouldn’t have wanted to give him that information. Couples didn’t usually like to stay in contact with the person they used to spice up their sex lives. It made everything too complicated.

Sid groaned and forced himself all the way up. Maybe he just needed a few glasses of water. When that didn’t work, he ordered a very unhealthy breakfast brought up for everyone to wake up to.

While they chowed down on omelets and sausage, Taylor told him all about a dream she had. His mind kept drifting away, thinking about long legs and sly smiles and murmured Russian. That felt like a dream to him now. A fantasy he made up for himself.

“Sid!” Taylor said loudly, tapping his arm to get his attention, and he jolted himself out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“You okay, bud?” Sid’s father asked, apparently catching on to his malaise.

Sid forced himself to pay attention. “Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?” he asked Taylor, who sighed at having to repeat herself.

The family parted at the airport. Sid’s parents and Taylor took off for Nova Scotia two hours earlier than Sid, who went to another terminal to wait for his flight back to Pittsburgh. He took advantage of the extra time to stop by a small shop and pick up a new book to keep his mind from wandering. If it wanted to wallow in unchangeable things, he would simply have to force it to go another way.

Twenty minutes before boarding, Sid sat at the gate, fully engrossed in the tale of a super-spy taking on the very government he swore to protect. He had thoroughly and successfully steered his traitorous mind away from deep water and onto something safe, manageable. Which was why it came as a shock when he heard a familiar, loud laugh--Zhenya.

Sid’s spine snapped straight. The laugh preceded a smattering of Russian and confirmed it. He heard Zhenya nearby. His heart jumped into a fast beat, and he popped up like a meerkat to survey the area.

Three rows of seats over, Zhenya’s eyes caught the movement immediately, and his attention zeroed in on Sid. His smile froze when their eyes met, and for a moment, Sid panicked. They never thought they would see him again. They didn’t _want_ to see him again. Then, Zhenya’s smile softened, and his eyes crinkled up fondly as he stood--he appeared so genuinely pleased by Sid's presence. Anna had her back turned but swung around when Zhenya started toward him.

“Sid!” Anna cried, also jumping up. She trotted past Zhenya to run to Sid, and he caught her in his arms. “I’m sorry,” she said into his shoulder, arms locked hard around his neck. “I was being stupid before--I’m sad when you go, but I act bad.”

“Oh, no. You didn’t.”

She pulled back, but her hands lingered on his forearms while she scanned his face. “You’re not angry?”

Sid shook his head. “No, of course not. Trust me, I didn’t want to go either.” 

“I know, I’m sorry," Anna said, putting her hands briefly over her face in embarrassment. When she reappeared, she offered Sid a contrite smile. "I think then you want to go. It was very silly.”

“Yeah,” Sid agreed, filled up with fondness that her angry reaction to his leaving came down to nothing more than pouting. “Really silly.”

Zhenya took the opportunity to pull Sid into a hug of his own. If Zhenya let him, Sid was pretty sure he would just stay there in his arms, locked together in the airport for eternity. Fortunately, Zhenya pulled back, so Sid didn't have to face that dilemma. 

“What are you guys even doing here?” Sid asked when Zhenya let him go.

“Go home,” Zhenya said with a shrug. “Olympics is over.”

“Yeah, I know, but--is your connecting flight in Pittsburgh?”

“No, we go to Pittsburgh. Home,” Anna clarified.

Sid gaped at her and then Zhenya, waiting for a punchline that didn’t come. “You guys _live_ in Pittsburgh?”

“Yes,” Zhenya said. “Why you think I say before you best hockey player? If I live in Moscow, Ovechkin is best player. Datsyuk.” Zhenya gave his best clowning smile while Sid’s head spun.

“You _live_\--” Sid trailed off, dazed.

Zhenya’s silly expression melted into a warm one. “Yes. And I’m happy you here. I forget, give number.”

“What?” Sid asked, because even as he watched Zhenya pulling out his phone to exchange information, it seemed incomprehensible to him.

“Phone number,” Zhenya clarified. “I think when I get back, I get from, like, someone. Now, I get from you, maybe. So, you know. Maybe we go for dinner. Or I cook. Anya only make fish always, so not her. I make good food. Pasta. If you want.” Zhenya’s voice faded--he looked awfully insecure.

It was beyond what Sid could have imagined. Zhenya didn’t sound like he was talking about hooking up again. He seemed almost like...Sid was afraid to even think it too loud, but it sounded like Zhenya was talking about dating. All of them. He dared a look at Anna to get her thoughts and found her looking back at him, wide-eyed and hopeful.

“Yeah,” Sid said, forcing his voice to work. “I definitely want--all of that, even fish. Fish is great, I love fish.”

Anna tipped her chin up to smirk at Zhenya and said something smug-sounding in Russian. When he grumbled back at her, clearly fighting a smile, Sid’s insides settled. His sense of unease, of missing something, abated. He had no idea what he was getting into with these two, but Sid knew he would go wherever they took him.


End file.
